Early Winter
by Claire Bloom
Summary: When Esme's sex life walked out the door, along with her husband, she never thought she would find passion again, but then she meets a sexy, Southern photographer, who convinces Esme to take part in an X-rated photo-shoot. He helps to awaken not just her libido, but her erotic imagination and soon her early winter turns into a delayed summer.
1. Chapter 1

Written for babypups because she is simply lovely. Prompt used: Early winter by Keane

Rated M for extreme nudity.

**Chapter One**

Esme sat in front of the oval vanity mirror, and ran her hands through her wet hair. The tresses tangled between each finger, leaving moisture on her skin. She continued to pull through till she reached the curling ends, which fell to just above her nipples. Her damp fingers carried on travelling down, leaving her hair behind, finding skin instead.

The water on her hands was cool, causing a puckering across her flesh; her nipple tightened as her palm gently hovered above it.

Her green eyes remained glued to her reflection. Silently, she studied herself. Her long, wavy, caramel coloured hair; the caramel was partly thanks to the regularly purchased box from the drug store to hide the few grey strands which kept sneaking through. Her skin was pale, milky, and soft; too soft for her liking.

Esme wanted a tan and toned body, nice and firm.

Her hands fell to her sides, brushing her rounded hips. She disliked her shape, her fullness. She hadn't always been so...soft. It was the only word to describe what she saw; soft. Recalling her youth, Esme remembered with her mind's eye the firm, slimmer figure of a young, attractive and athletic girl. Her legs had been smooth, with not an ounce of cellulite in sight. Her buttocks had been taut, ready to be pinched, and it often was. Now, her legs remained out of sight in slacks or in dark, thick tights. She figured there really was no need to shave them more than once a week, nor have them on show in knee-length skirts.

Esme dropped her eyes down to her stomach and gently followed the lines of faded, silvery stretch marks peppered across her tummy.

She felt...old. She knew she looked it, too, because her husband of twenty years had walked out, telling her the fire that used to be 'Esme' had died. There was no excitement anymore, hadn't been in a long time. And even though she didn't agree with him, she hadn't found the energy to argue. Charles had always excited her, and it hurt to hear him say it wasn't reciprocated.

Esme recalled some other words he'd used to describe their sex life, and feeling the sickness and humiliation grip hold of her again, Esme closed her eyes to the woman staring back at her. The woman she no longer recognised but had to see every damn day.

"Mom!"

She could hear Alice banging around downstairs, slamming cupboard doors and muttering to herself. She was no doubt complaining because Esme was not already down in the kitchen, making breakfast and seeing her daughter off to school, just as she did every morning.

Just as she had always done.

_Same old shit, just a different day_, Esme thought.

She'd heard the phrase on one of those brain dead, teenage drama shows and had taken an instant liking to it. Those words summed up Esme's life perfectly.

Grabbing a band, Esme tied back her still-damp hair and stood, pulling on her clothes which had been laid out on the bed since before her shower. She didn't bother with make-up.

Walking into the kitchen, Esme watched Alice pour cereal into a bowl, spilling most of it onto the counter top before adding milk into the mix. That, too, missed the bowl. Picking up her breakfast, and a spoon, Alice stormed past, knocking Esme gently with her shoulder.

"Thanks a lot, Mom. Now I'm running late."

Esme decided not to chastise her daughter for her rudeness, or her mess, and just reluctantly accepted the blame. She'd learnt the hard way that it didn't really matter what she said to Alice, there was no point in defending herself, or asking her daughter to grow up and accept her responsibilities.

When Esme talked, all Alice heard was babble. She wondered if Alice heard dolphin squeaks when she talked, or a high-pitched whistle, because nothing she said sunk in. Therefore, Esme had given up talking, squeaking, or whistling, and simply kept quiet, nodding along in agreement with her high maintenance daughter and her selfish demands.

Esme wondered when she had stopped liking Alice, and had resorted to loving her just for the sake of her paternal duty. That sounded harsh, even to Esme, but in reality, Alice was hard work, spoilt and oblivious to those around her and their needs. Alice thought of no-one but herself.

It had been an overnight change from sweet, angelic little girl to self-obsessed, materialistic, selfish young madam. Esme had never seen it coming, could never believe her booboo could turn into a monster. Charles had never noticed, of course. His angel would forever remain his angel. He was blind to her flaws, but fixated on Esme's; or so it seemed to Esme.

And when he'd left, taking Esme' dignity as well as her heart along with him, Alice had ignored her mother's pain and blamed her for his departure; just like Charles had.

It was always Esme's fault.

"You're not listening to me, again!" Alice actually stamped her foot, causing Esme to forget her musings and focus her attention on her daughter.

"What did you need, dear?"

"I need you to drop off this portfolio," Alice explained, slowing her words as if Esme was stupid and didn't understand. "It's very important. There's a modelling job I want, and they need to see my work before they make their decision. I have an exam so can't do it." Alice thrust the folder towards Esme, and waited for her to take it.

"Alice, I have a busy day to-"

"You?" Alice laughed. "Well, if you could do me a favour and make time _for me_, for a change, in between manicures and lunching with the ladies, I'd appreciate it."

Esme took the folder and looked down at her hands. Her nails were bitten and without polish. It was quite obvious to anyone with eyes that it had been a while since her last manicure.

"Thanks," Alice shot over her shoulder as she raced out the door.

And as for lunching with the ladies, it had been a long while since they'd extended an invitation to Esme. Thinking about it hurt, remembering her youth hurt, missing her marriage hurt. Sometimes, Esme wished she could just be numb - stop feeling so much, stop needing - something.

Sighing, Esme sat down at the counter and looked around her. Alice had left the kitchen in complete disarray, assuming her mother would clear up, just as she always did.

It was always the same way.

Esme stood back up and started to clear the breakfast things. She loaded the dishwasher and washed the work surfaces with a disinfectant spray, taking her time to wipe the area clean and dry.

Walking through the house, she puttered around, tidying away, picking up laundry and filling the machine. It was a mindless task, one she did every day without thought or care anymore.

Once satisfied with the house, Esme walked back upstairs to her room and decided that because she was leaving the house, she should really apply a modest amount of make-up. Picking up Alice's portfolio, she headed towards her car. Alice had thoughtfully taped the address of the studio on the front cover, and looking at it, Esme recognised the area. Throwing the folder onto the passenger seat, she started the car and drove straight there.

It took less than ten minutes to arrive, but longer to see the photographer. Esme was told to wait for he was busy with a shoot, and would see her when he was done.

Esme sat and studied all of the magazines on offer, then standing, she walked around the room, looking at the prints framed and hanging on the plain, white walls. Each one was of a body part; the curve from a neck to shoulder, the length of a thigh, the delicate contours of a back with just a hint of the breast sloping seductively; all of them in black and white, and none of them with a face.

Esme had to admit they were exquisite, and who ever the woman was, she had a beauty that was so apparent in every angle of her body the viewer would assume her face was beautiful, too.

Walking over to Alice's portfolio, Esme opened it up and looked at each print. Her daughter was attractive, slight, and extremely photogenic, but her colourful shots seemed garish in comparison to the black and whites she'd just viewed.

"Jasper will see you now," the pretty, young receptionist called over to Esme. She nodded towards the studio door, confirming Esme was allowed to walk straight inside.

Picking up the folder, Esme pushed at the door and stepped into the studio, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the shadows.

In the centre of the room was an area lit up like Vegas. A silver rug spread across the floor with a mattress and fur covers thrown over it. In the middle of the bed was a couple; a naked couple, simulating sex. Or at least Esme assumed they were simulating it.

Esme's mouth dropped open and she turned, about to leave as the shoot was obviously still in session, but then she paused, and watched in fascination as the sensuality of the couple stopped her in awe. She had never seen two such perfect people.

The girl, who was on all fours, threw her head back, her long blonde hair falling to her hips as she pushed her bottom back against the giant, dark haired man with dimples. He was gripping her thighs and gyrating, grinding into her.

She moaned, he groaned, and Esme blushed scarlet.

Stepping forward, eager for a closer look, she watched them run their hands over one another, turn their faces towards each other, their mouths slightly open, their tongues visible but never actually kissing. With eyes half closed, their backs arched and fingers found areas which made Esme feel hot.

She couldn't look away.

Esme's eyes fixed on the girls nipples; they were pert, perfect little nubs, and as the giant's mouth closed around one, his tongue flicking gently over it, Esme felt her nipples come alive and yearn for the warmth of his mouth over her own.

Esme flushed again, and lifted one hand to her cheek. She didn't even know this man, yet she was so incredibly aroused by him - by the girl, even - heck, by this entire scene laid out in front of her.

For the first time in a very long time, Esme felt her body react. She had always enjoyed sex with Charles, but if she was honest with herself, it _had_ become perfunctory.

It hadn't started out that way. When she and Charles had first met, they couldn't get enough of each other. At every opportunity they had to touch one another, there was always contact, but it had filtered out and eventually died, and when Charles had said so it hurt Esme; it cut deep. But she never agreed with him, she wouldn't admit it was true, not until now.

How could she have been so blind? A few seconds of this erotica had flushed Esme's skin, heated her, and right at that very moment, she really, really missed sex.

The distant sound of a voice issuing instructions filtered through and Esme tore her eyes from the lovers, and sought out Jasper.

She had no idea what he looked like, but as there was just one other person in the room, she guessed he was the photographer crouched down low, snapping pictures and muttering enthusiastic suggestions for hand, tongue, and leg placement.

Esme watched him engrossed in his work. To her, the scene was intimate and far too personal for anyone to witness. She was assuming they were a couple because what they were acting out seemed so real. As she studied the photographer, her attention became gripped, switched from the lovers to his voice.

His accent wasn't strong, but it was noticeable. His tone was low, setting the mood and almost taking part in the actions on the bed rather than interrupting it.

Looking down at the small screen on his camera, he held up his hand. "That's a wrap, guys." Standing, Jasper walked over to the table situated behind the blinds and lighting, close to where Esme was hiding in the shadows.

She waited for his attention to fix on her, but he simply ignored her, or didn't notice her, and carried on flipping through the digital screen, studying each shot. He seemed happy with what he'd captured and placed the camera down on the table. It was then he looked up at Esme.

"Howdy." He smiled, his lips parted, showing his teeth slightly. It was sort of a crooked smile, cheeky, full of suggestion. His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile extended, waiting for her to speak.

Esme, like an idiot, raised her left hand in a mock wave. She blushed and looked down at her feet.

She heard him chuckle and peeped back up at him. She felt like she was 15 years old again.

"So?" he nodded his head towards the scene she had been watching. "What did you think?"

"Excuse me?" Esme blushed again. She was mortified that he had caught her watching them.

"Was it sexy? I needed sexy."

Esme nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, it was sexy," she spluttered.

Jasper laughed. "Cool. It's good to get an impartial point of view, you know."

Esme thought she agreed, but she felt so incredibly out of her depth in this studio, with these people, she simply stood and stared at him. She was aware the couple had dressed and left the studio, but she stayed focused on Jasper.

He smiled at her again, it was a nice smile. Despite feeling like a child, he didn't seem to be mocking her.

"Did you want to speak to me?"

Esme found her voice. "Oh, yes. My daughter, Alice, asked me to bring you her portfolio for a shoot she's auditioning for." She held out the folder, nearly dropping it as her hand had become a little sweaty.

Jasper walked over to her. Keeping his eyes on hers, he reached out and took the folder from her. He broke eye contact for just a second to watch her tongue flick out and wet her bottom lip. Her mouth felt so dry. She saw his pupils react to the sight of her tongue, and it was all Esme could do to not moan out loud. This place was disturbing her, the sexual scenario, the handsome photographer - in his tight jeans and cowboy boots - and his sexy, crooked smile; she felt too hot.

Suddenly, Esme needed to escape. She wanted to turn and run. She spun on her heel and started for the door.

She didn't expect him to reach out to capture her elbow, stopping her from leaving.

"Can you stay?" he asked.

Esme turned to look at his hand on her arm, but he didn't let go. She didn't want to stay, she wanted to leave. Well, in reality she wanted to tear her clothes off and climb him like-

Esme shook her head. She did not need to visualise that.

"I just need a quick look, and then you can take it with you. Saves Alice having to come back to pick it up again," he suggested.

Esme realised he had mistook her head shake as a decline.

"I can wait," she said.

He smiled again, and released her arm.

Esme watched him walk over to a sofa, and sit, flicking through the pages. She followed him but remained standing. He reached an image of Alice smiling. She was looking past the camera and it seemed so natural. Esme liked that photo the best.

"She's very photogenic," Esme muttered.

Jasper looked up at Esme, studying her face for the longest time. Esme felt a blush race across her cheeks again, and thought how ridiculous her reactions to him were.

"I think you have a more interesting face," he said, closing the portfolio.

"Are you serious? She's young and pretty and vibrant, and I'm-" Esme paused, unsure how to finish her sentence.

"You're what?" Jasper stood and dropped the folder. Walking up to her, he stood very close. He was so much taller than Esme. She could feel him staring down at her but she refused to look up at him. "Finish," he said.

"I'm...old," Esme said, shrugging.

"And?"

"And not as vibrant," she admitted.

Jasper didn't say a word, she could feel him looking at her, and she could see him breathing. She focused her eyes on his chest and tried not to think about how toned he looked beneath the linen.

"Indulge me," he whispered, and taking her hand, he led her over to a stool. He gestured for Esme to sit. She did and watched him, curious, as he walked back to the table and grabbed his camera.

"Oh, I don't think-" Esme shook her head and made to stand, but Jasper stopped her.

"Please?" he asked. His crooked smile won her over. She nodded, and Jasper began snapping away. Each time she heard the click and the shutter respond, she blinked. Esme hated having her photo taken.

"Relax," Jasper laughed.

"I can't."

"Tell me about yourself," he coaxed.

Esme shrugged. "Not much to tell," she said. "I'm divorced, I have Alice. End of."

"There is more to you than that," Jasper pushed, still taking photos.

"Not really," Esme told him. She looked down at her hands. "That's my story."

"Not true," he argued. "You're more than someone's ex wife and mother. What's your name?"

"Esme,"

"Did you like what you saw, Esme?" Jasper changed the subject.

Esme laughed, "Would you think badly of me if I said yes?"

Jasper chuckled, too. "No, I'd be pleased. It is my work that you like, after all."

"Not really. I saw the couple, and the scenario, but not the images you took."

Jasper stopped clicking and looked over the lens, right at her. "You know, I do believe you're right."

Esme felt like her comment had been impolite. "I'm sure the photographs are amazing. I was admiring your work in the foyer, before I came in. They're exquisite. I have no doubt those will be, too."

"Would you like to come back and take a look at them?" he asked her, resuming his clicking.

Esme smiled broadly. "Oh, I'd love to." She watched him work, and soon forgot she was his subject, managing to relax a little. "Can I ask you a question?" She asked him.

Jasper nodded, and continued clicking.

"Do you do porn?"

Jasper choked on his laughter, and stopped photographing her. "Do I do porn?" he repeated.

"Yes." Esme nodded, and looked so innocent. She had no idea how offensive her question could've been. "Those people, that couple. They were naked, and touching...each other. It was very sensual, and I wondered if it was porn."

Jasper liked her immediately. There was a little girl in this woman's body. He had no doubt once that woman was awakened, she would blossom. He wondered why her husband had not fought to release that sensitive and potentially breathtaking woman inside of her.

He must be an idiot, Jasper decided.

"It wasn't exactly porn," he told her. "It was for a marketing campaign."

"Really?" Esme asked. "For what?"

"Lubricant." Jasper laughed. He couldn't help it, she looked so embarrassed.

Esme looked away and tried to stifle her own laughter. She was relieved it wasn't porn, otherwise she would've had to intervene should Alice had been successful in getting a job with him. Esme cringed at the word 'job' and wondered when her mind had become so dirty.

Jasper took a few more shots, and looked back up at her with a grin.

"Come here." He crooked his finger and motioned for her to follow. Esme jumped down from the stool and sat next to him on the sofa. It seemed awfully intimate, and reminded Esme how long it had been since she had sat this close to another person.

Jasper had plugged in his camera and was flipping through the screen. He stopped at Esme's images. He nodded towards the wall where a flat screen television was displaying Esme's photo.

It took her a moment to recognise herself. Her entire face filled the screen; she was smiling but looking down. Her lashes looked long and dark against her cheeks, her hair soft and wavy as it curled around her jaw. She was thankful no lines or wrinkles were visible. She had to admit, it was a lovely photograph; one of the best that had ever been taken of her.

"You say Alice is vibrant." He clicked onto the next image; Esme was now looking directly down the lens. Her mouth was open in laughter, her eyes crinkled slightly with the strength of her smile. Her teeth were pearly white and she was grateful for the braces her mother made her wear all those years ago. "Well, that woman there," he clicked onto another, and then another; all of them made Esme look so pretty, "is not just vibrant, she is luminous."

"I look so pretty," Esme spoke aloud.

Jasper laughed, causing Esme to look over at him. "You are pretty," he told her.

They shared eye contact for the longest time. Esme wondered how she could move past the moment, but she wasn't sure she wanted to, so she remained locked in his gaze.

Eventually, Esme's eyes moved away from Jasper's, and down to his lips. He smiled at her, like he knew every thought she was having about that full, bottom lip of his.

She looked quickly away, and standing, wiped her damp palms down her legs. "I have to go." Bending she picked up Alice's portfolio and walked to the door.

"Esme," Jasper called out after her.

She stopped but didn't turn.

"Can I have your address and phone number?"

Esme's stomach flipped. She considered the possibility of him calling her, and taking her out to dinner, and where the night would lead. She admitted to herself she found him incredibly sexy, but dare she fool herself into believing her found her attractive, too?

Jasper broke through her thoughts. "I'll need some way to contact Alice, should I decide to use her."

Esme, mortified at her naivety, rushed to the table, removed a pad and pen from her purse, and wrote down their details. Leaving the paper where it lay, she rushed to the door, all without turning to face him.

Jasper watched her as she hurried away, and he couldn't wipe away the smile she had placed on his face since the moment he'd seen her.

She was perfect. But she was shy.

Walking over to his kitchen situated at the back of his studio, he found his Scotch and a glass and poured a generous measure. Taking his drink back to the sofa, he flipped through the images of Esme. Setting the camera onto slideshow, he watched with fascination as each photograph filled the TV screen.

Yes, she was perfect. He had finally found the one. Now all he had to do was convince her.


	2. Chapter 2

Written for the very beautiful Babypups Whitlock, and her ickle kitty JJ. Prompt used is 'Early Winter' by Keane.

My eternal gratitude goes to Tanya aka AcrossTheSkyInStars, she is a wonderful beta, writer, friend and the little sister I never had. x

Chapter Two

It was pouring with rain; giant, cold splotches which completely drenched Esme between leaving the sanctuary of her car, and struggling to unlock – and then open – the front door. Her arms were burning with the weight of the grocery bags, and she was freezing. The heavens had literally opened just as she'd parked the car.

Even before the rain, Esme had not been in a very good mood. Alice had promised to go grocery shopping with her, but had simply grunted at Esme when she'd tried to wake her this morning before rolling over to go back to sleep.

Esme dropped the bags onto the hall floor then kicked the door closed with her foot.

"Alice!" she bellowed as loud as possible. She had shopped all morning, was soaking wet and cold, and didn't think it was fair to have to put it all away, too. "Alice!" She screamed again.

Throwing her keys into the bowl, she stomped down the hall towards the kitchen. As she walked she pulled the scarf from her head, dripping water everywhere.

Esme stopped to pull her sodden shoes from her damp feet, and then reaching up under her skirt, she pulled down her pantyhose. They were clinging uncomfortably to her legs and she was happy to be rid of them.

"Ahem!"

Esme stood up straight and whirled around, the crumpled and wet pantyhose clutched in her hand. Her skirt dropped back down with her sudden movement.

"Hi." Jasper held his hand up in mock wave, just as Esme had done when they'd first met.

"Oh, good God!" Esme exclaimed. Had he really just seen her strip off her pantyhose?

"Yes." Jasper bit his bottom lip in an attempt to stop laughing out loud. "Yes, I did." He answered her silent question, and Esme wanted to run and hide. "Did you need some help?" Jasper turned and tilted his head towards the discarded bags of groceries in the hall.

Esme nodded, so grateful at him for changing the subject. She watched as he gathered all the bags up in one swift motion, breezed past her, and placed them on the kitchen counter.

He started unpacking the bags, so Esme walked over to help. She waited till he'd placed them down on the worktop before picking them up; she didn't want to touch him, she was afraid of what her reaction might be. She couldn't deny there was something vibrating through the air from her body to his, and she wondered if he felt it, too, or if this was all her.

As Esme opened cupboards she pondered on Jasper, her strange fascination with a man she'd met just once – well, twice counting today – and why he was here.

She felt like a teenager around him. She'd felt clumsy and silly when she chatted with him in his studio, and she felt exactly the same right now. She wanted to speak, but feared she would bore him, or sound stupid, so in her mind she pushed each conversational possibility to one side, and chose to remain quiet.

He was very good looking, his hair slightly longer than Esme liked, and a shade darker than blonde. He was younger than Esme, possibly by ten years at least, but there was a maturity about him. He didn't appear to be arrogant, but he was confident. She could tell he knew his own mind and what he wanted. She couldn't help but think of him in bed. A small flutter ignited in her belly, and she stopped helping with the groceries to briefly place her hand over her stomach, as if to calm the nerves there.

Esme hadn't had butterflies around a man since she had started dating her ex husband, Charles. She would always feel that mixture of excitement and nerves before he would pick her up, and often she would pray he wouldn't try to hold her hand as her palms were so sweaty with anticipation.

And by the end of the evening, when Charles would take her in his arms to kiss her goodnight, Esme's legs could barely hold her up. Yes, it had been a long time since she had enjoyed a goodnight kiss, the excitement of sharing someone's company, and the longing to be touched by them. It suddenly astonished Esme how quickly things had died between them, and she wondered how she had been so blind to it, when it had been so glaringly obvious to Charles.

"Are you ok?" Jasper asked, spying her hand on her stomach and wondering if she felt nauseas.

Esme nodded. "Yes, just ...déjà vu." She tried to wave it off, not really sure how to explain where her mind had wandered to. She didn't think Jasper would want to hear about her ex and their flawed marriage.

Jasper recognised that she didn't really want to talk about it, so he continued to unpack, folding the now empty paper bags neatly. He held them up. "Where do these belong?"

Esme pointed to the bottom drawer by his ankles and focused her eyes on his behind as he turned and bent slightly, and then stood straight again. His jeans were a little tighter than Esme preferred on a man, but he carried it off. She didn't have the nerve to eyeball his groin, so she focused on the curve of his thigh, visible through the denim. They looked muscular, and Esme had a fleeting vision of being held between them. She was thankful he wasn't looking directly at her as she blushed at her naughty thoughts. In fact, Esme decided to take complete indulgence in eyeballing him, and when he turned away and bent down again, her eyes rested, with satisfaction, on his bottom. It was round, and small, and she felt an urge to cup each little cheek in the palm of her hands.

She licked her lips and looked up at him, catching his eye. He was watching her from over his shoulder with a slight smile on his face. Just one tiny dimple dented his cheek. That crooked smile was too damn cute!

Esme decided it was too embarrassing to even try to explain herself, so she set about causing a distraction and began to make a pot of coffee.

She suddenly needed to ask, "Why are you here?"

"I have a job, and I need a model."

Esme turned to look over her shoulder at him; he was still smiling at her, and Esme fought with every fibre of her being to not reach out and trace the laughter lines crinkled around his beautiful blue eyes.

"Alice let me in," he answered her unspoken question.

As Esme continued making the coffee, Jasper moved slowly until he was standing directly behind her. He wondered what she would do if he placed his hands on her hips. He knew she was nervous, and he didn't pretend to know why, but deciding he needed her for this job and pushing his luck might jeopardise that, he kept his hands by his sides.

She felt him standing close, and waited for him to touch her or to speak. The wait seemed long and heated.

"Smells great," he finally whispered, inches from her ear, his breath causing her hair to tickle her cheek.

Esme jumped slightly and gripped the kitchen counter for support. Jasper noticed her knuckles turn white as she sought support from the countertop, and felt her body tremble a little.

He didn't come here to seduce her, his intention had been to convince her to take this modelling job, but catching her ogling him, and responding to him like this, made him feel just a little bit powerful, and he liked it. Plus, her innocence was a huge turn on.

She may have been older than him, but he knew that should he take her bed, he would be teaching Esme a move or two. He had no doubt she would be a sensuous lover, he could tell by her softness and naivety. He liked that about her, and it's what made her perfect for the assignment.

Jasper had recognised that Esme was very attractive when he'd first seen her, and he had been amused by her reactions to Emmett and Rosalie while they acted out a sexual scenario in front of his camera. It had been a long time since Jasper had met anyone who found sex embarrassing. He lived in a generation where sex was as free as speech, and the ladies he went to bed with were just as liberated as the men they slept with. He imagined it would be a novelty to taste the sweetness of someone so unaware of her own sexuality.

He had come here to ask her to be his model, but seeing her try so hard to mask her desires had pushed his male buttons, and he couldn't resist flirting with her.

She could feel warmth radiating from his chest as he gently pressed himself against her. She was still holding onto the work surface, so he threaded his hands between her arms and her sides, making it look like his arms were hers. He rested his chin on her shoulder and took over making the coffee, all the while his body was in constant contact with her own.

Esme didn't speak. Jasper didn't think she could. He could hear her swallowing, and in his peripheral he saw her lips part and heard her breath deepen. His proximity was affecting her, and he was thoroughly enjoying it.

Jasper didn't think of himself as a player. He never treated women like toys by sleeping with them and then casting them aside like many of his friends did. He believed in treating people fairly, just as he expected to be treated, and besides all that, his mother had taught him manners. Jasper's lovers had all been consenting adults knowing that the night was for their pleasure but the day was for parting company.

He wasn't adverse to a relationship, he'd even had a few, but he preferred to be single. He wasn't sure why, he just liked his life that way.

Jasper reminded himself why he had come here. He needed to ask Esme a question, which he knew she would say no to, and then he would convince her otherwise.

Pulling away, he lifted his coffee cup and sipped. "It tastes great, too." He waited for Esme to look over her shoulder at him, and then he winked.

She pushed away from the counter. "I'll go get Alice." She started to move but Jasper reached out with one hand and took her elbow. "I didn't come to see Alice," he said quietly. "She let me in. She knows I'm not here for her."

"But you said you had a job." Esme reacted to the word 'job' again, and tried to dispel the sudden barrage of rude images that word and Jasper's presence invoked.

He nodded. "I do. But not for Alice."

Esme blinked. "Me?" she laughed. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious."

Esme studied his face. He _was_ serious.

"Oh, I don't think I'm ready – I mean, you've got the wrong...it's just not me. A model? I'm not a model, Jasper. I think you've made a mistake."

"I never make a mistake," he laughed.

"Well, I've got news for you, buddy," Jasper raised his brow at her, "I'm not a model, therefore, you have made a mistake." Esme poked his chest lightly. She needed a drink, but she wanted something stronger than coffee. But since it was already in her hands, she lifted her cup and took a sip and then placed her cup back down. She was shaking.

"Look, I have no doubt you are exactly what they, and I, are looking for. It is a little – intimate."

Esme's eyes widened with shock. She couldn't possibly do what those other models had been doing.

Jasper held his hand up, and tried not to laugh at her reaction. "I swear, Esme, you won't need to do anything you're not comfortable with. But I do believe you can do this. Just tell me you'll think about it?"

"I'll be – naked?" Esme swallowed nervously.

"No. There are particular clothing items they want you to wear. You won't be naked."

"But as good as, I'm guessing."

Jasper stopped smiling and placed his cup of coffee down. "It will just be you and me in the studio for this one. You have nothing to worry about. Just you and me."

"Like that helps," she muttered, biting her lip and wondering what poses he would be instructing her to get into.

She had to admit, it made her feel warm, and a small knot formed in her belly. If her feet weren't too cold from the rain, she was sure her toes would've curled in excitement.

"Esme," Jasper spoke softly. "You're exactly what they're looking for. I know you'll be perfect, amazing even. And the money is really good." He reached out and stroked her jaw gently, tenderly, and Esme resisted the urge to press her face into his palm. He was simply trying to calm her jumping nerves. He was being nice, she told herself. "I promise I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. Will you at least think about it? You can come see me in a few days, and I'll talk you through the campaign, what I'm visualising for the shoot. Don't make your mind up until you know everything that the job entails, ok?"

Esme moved away from Jasper's touch. He was too good looking, charming, and perceptive for his own good. He made Esme feel comfortable and uncomfortable, all at the same time. She felt like she could trust him, he seemed sincere, but she barely knew him. Esme didn't think she could call herself a good judge of character; she had been hurt by people she'd called friends, and by her husband, but she felt like she _could_ trust him.

She didn't know why, and she didn't want to question it.

Esme finally nodded. "Ok. I'll think about it."

Jasper's face lit up as he smiled that crooked smile she liked so much. "Call me in a few days. We'll talk then." He pressed a business card into her hand and left, and Esme took great pleasure in watching his bottom in those tight, tight jeans.

She finished her coffee, and cleaned up a little. Then walking into the lounge, she found the flower arrangement she had bought last week was now dead and wilting. She busied herself throwing the flowers out and washing the vase.

Finding her home was clean and tidy, and nothing needed her urgent attention, Esme decided to take a bath. She needed desperately to keep her mind occupied so she didn't think about that job and the denim clad photographer. He would be issuing orders, his slight Southern twang lilting and lifting his words, and those words would be directed at _her _body parts.

His voice, his accent, his jeans; it would all be too much.

Esme shook her head. This was exactly what she did not want to think about!

As she walked upstairs to her bathroom, Esme passed by Alice's door. It was open, which was unusual as Alice always closed her bedroom door. Esme paused and looked inside. Alice was on her bed, biting her fingernails and staring out the window.

Esme knocked gently. "Are you ok?"

Alice stopped chewing and glared at her mother. "Not really."

Esme took one step inside the room, and then paused as Alice scowled down at her feet as if daring her to come in any further.

"What's wrong?"

"As if _you_ really need to ask!"

"Obviously I do, Alice, because I have no idea-"

"You stole my job!" Alice swung her legs out from under her, and stomped across the floor. "That was my modelling job, and you took it, right from under my nose!"

"Alice, you're being ridic-"

"How could you?" She spun around to face Esme. "My own mother!" She started to sob and ran back to her bed, hurling herself face down and burying her head in the crook of her arm.

"Oh for goodness sake, Alice, stop being so over dramatic!"

"You're so heartless!" Alice wailed.

"Alice, the job wasn't yours to lose. It's for an older model, more mature. And despite you being very good at your profession, I don't think you could've pulled it off."

Alice looked up at her mother. "So, it's for like a wrinkle cream or something?"

Esme resisted the urge to smother her daughter with a pillow, and simply smiled. "Something like that."

Alice sat up. "But _I_ wanted to work with him."

"Maybe another opportunity will come up, and he'll think you're perfect for that."

Alice nodded. "Of course."

Esme stroked Alice's hair and then left her alone. She needed her bath now more than ever.

She could hear Alice dialling the phone, and knew her daughter was about to transfer her tantrum onto her friend, Leah, instead.

Leaving the hot water running, Esme turned to face her reflection in the floor-length mirror. She slowly lifted her hands to unbutton her blouse, and studied her movements as she thought about Jasper and the photographs he wanted to take.

She didn't have a terrible figure, and had been lucky enough to lose most of her baby weight after Alice had been born. She was still slightly plumper than she had been in her youth, and Esme hoped this would add to her appeal, but she wasn't entirely happy with what she looked like, and she wondered what it was Jasper had spotted in her. What had made him think she was ideal for this?

Maybe it was _because_ she was flawed.

With her blouse now open, Esme pushed the fabric aside, exposing her bra. It was white with small, yellow daisies embroidered along the cups. Esme sighed. Her underwear spoke volumes about her sexuality; white, simple and plain. She couldn't _do_ sexy. She had no idea where to even start.

Letting her blouse fall to the floor, she brushed her hands across the skin of her stomach. She had a few stretch marks which had changed over the years from angry red, to jagged silvery lines. They seemed so obvious to her, and as much as she tried to view them as lines of her life, etchings left by the miracle of carrying a baby, she couldn't deny she found them unattractive.

Esme reached around and unzipped her pencil skirt, letting it fall beside her blouse. She stepped free of the material and sat on the side of the tub.

Could she really go through with this?

Would she have the nerve to bare herself to Jasper?

And in the end, he wouldn't be the only one who looked upon her half-naked, vulnerable state. Those photographs would be viewed, and she could be ridiculed.

Esme didn't think she could do it. She wasn't brave enough. Imagining laying there in intimate poses with sexy lingerie on, Jasper telling her to raise this, and pucker that, well it did excite her a little, but fear quickly quashed it and the butterflies turned to nausea.

_I'm not brave enough._

And without looking back at the mirror, she removed her underwear, and sunk below the warmth of the water and bubbles. She knew what would be reflected there, and if she couldn't look upon it with admiration, how could she expect anyone else to?


	3. Chapter 3

**Written for babypups Whitlock because she is lovely. The prompt used is 'Early Winter' by Keane. Rated M for extreme sexiness.**

**My love and devotion go to Tanya aka AcrossTheSkyInStars for being a beat extraordinaire, and to NannyJoJo and Vampmama for always being so supportive.**

**Chapter Three**

Esme fingered the business card. The edges were tattered; evidence of how many times Esme had lifted the card, toyed with it, and changed her mind about calling him.

Her mind was made up, but Esme had yet to tell him her answer was no. She had gone over and over in her mind what she thought the shoot would be like; she just could not picture herself sexy and alluring while Jasper snapped photos and shouted directions to her, all animated and enthusiastic.

Sometimes she changed his persona to soft and tender, his voice a husky whisper as he breathed the words 'nipple' and' curves', 'hip' and 'bottom', as Esme lay with her head thrown back, biting her index finger as she pretended to be in the throes of passion.

She thought about it a lot, and each time the scenario changed; what she was wearing, what _he_ was wearing, what he would say, how he would say it, where he would stand, if he would touch her to rearrange her pose. It didn't escape Esme's notice that Jasper became central in her visions, rather than herself. It took a while for Esme to admit she diverted her attention to him because she couldn't bear to think about attempting those sexual positions and poses.

She knew she couldn't do it. She had balked at the idea of trying 'doggy' style when Charles had begged her to spice things up one night. How could two people in love want to act like animals? How was that sexy? She just couldn't fathom it. Charles had been angry and humiliated, and had said she was too _vanilla_.

It became his nickname for her. At every opportunity he would call her vanilla, even when they had company. He tried to convince her that no one knew where his joke stemmed from, but Esme could tell everyone knew he meant she was boring.

It was thinking about Jasper and this marketing campaign that had made Esme realise just how long her marriage had floundered before Charles had had the courage to speak up, and then leave.

It saddened Esme to suddenly understand that her husband had tried, but her naivety had blinded her to this fact. She turned to the wine to help her sort out her thoughts and her decision; to pose or not to pose?

For a few hours after her realisation about Charles, Esme mourned the loss of her marriage for the second time, but it hurt more because she now _knew_ she was partly to blame.

When had she become so scared?

Esme wanted to be daring, and for just a second, she decided the photo shoot was a way to challenge herself, and she would do it.

Later that night, when the effects of the wine had started to wear off, she changed her mind back.

She just couldn't do it. She was all wrong for this campaign, and she had to make Jasper see his choice was not the right one.

She pondered on whether she should go see him in person, or tell him over the phone.

Esme decided the phone was the safest bet, as she may just be persuaded once he started smiling and winking at her. She knew his voice was also extremely charming, but she told herself she could handle his accent without seeing his face.

She knew he would be disappointed in her, but Esme was under no illusion that she was the only woman he knew who could model this campaign, which he had yet to tell her about.

It wasn't his fault she didn't know the details. He had, in fact, invited her to his studio so they could discuss the campaign and his ideas for it.

Esme wanted to call him, but she really was too chicken. She didn't know why, but she sincerely hated the idea of disappointing him. She just wished she was brave enough and sexy enough to go through with it.

Leaving the card on her bedside table, Esme stood and went downstairs. Just as she reached the bottom stair, the front door slammed open and Alice charged into the hallway, her face a vivid red as she tried, unsuccessfully, to contain her anger.

She glared at her mother. "How could you humiliate me like this?" She cried.

Esme struggled not to roll her eyes. Another Alice tantrum was about to erupt.

"Alice, I have no idea-"

"This – job – with Jasper, is pornography! My mother, doing porn! At your age! I'm so ashamed of you."

Alice raced past Esme, knocking her from the stairs. Gripping the handrail, Esme counted to twenty, took a deep breath, and then counted to ten. She decided that was enough and followed.

She knocked gently on Alice's door, and then opened it, peering inside. Alice, as usual, was face down on her bed, sobbing into the crook of her elbow.

"What are you talking about, Alice?" She sat down on the edge of the bed.

Alice stopped sobbing and sat up. She looked at Esme. "Leah was on a shoot at his studio, and when she took her break she noticed a portfolio on his desk. She looked inside, thinking it was about the job I had applied for."

She paused, which irked Esme. "But I'm guessing it wasn't," she ventured.

Alice shook her head. "It was about sex toys, and your name was on the campaign. It's just - disgusting; the idea of you, advertising sex toys – oh, the shame!" She wailed and buried her face again.

Esme frowned. Did Jasper really think she was the perfect candidate for sex toys? Exactly what kind of woman did he think she was? He had hinted it was of an intimate nature, but sex toys! Really?

Esme felt just a little insulted.

How dare he!

And how dare Alice!

She was still wailing. "You can't do this to me, you just can't. If you go through with this, I'm - I'm going-"

Esme saw red. It was alright for her to tell herself she couldn't do it, but not her daughter. Just who did this little madam think she was? "Or what, Alice? You're going to what?"

Esme stood and put her hands on her hips. She meant business.

Alice stopped crying and looked at her mother. She was surprised by her tone. Her mother never raised her voice, or lost her temper, but she looked really mad right now. "I'll tell dad," Alice threatened.

"Ha!" Esme laughed. It was short and sharp, and sounded more like a bark. This was ridiculous. Now Charles was going to tell her what she couldn't do as well? Not that he would ever believe Esme was capable of such a thing.

Esme bent over at the waist until her eyes were level with Alice's. "Tell him!" she said, and spun on her heel and left.

Alice ran after her. "You can't do it, Mom. You're too old. It's disgusting, a woman of your age, and look at your figure. You're hardly model material. I don't know what Jasper was thinking choosing you. This campaign must be a joke, and you don't care that I'll be a laughing stock because of it. Because of you!"

"If working for Jasper is so disgusting then why did you apply to be one of his models?" Esme threw back over her shoulder.

"Because it's not always about sex, Mom, he does fashion, too." Alice wiped her nose on her sleeve. Esme watched her and wished she had a teenage daughter who dressed Goth and stayed in her room, occasionally grunting as she came and went throughout the house. Oh, what a joy it would be to have a silent Alice.

"You can't do this, Mom. It's so wrong. You must see that."

"What is so wrong with it?" Esme agreed it was wrong, but she would never tell Alice that, plus she wanted to hear what Alice had to say.

Alice threw her hands up in exasperation. "I've already told you, it's disgusting."

"Because of my age, right?"

"Yes, but not just that."

Esme looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate, but in reality she didn't need to. Alice had already said her figure was a problem.

Esme turned to walk away.

"You can't do this to me, Mom. You can't. You're a joke, can't you see that? And you'll turn me into one, too? You're so selfish! Mom! Mooom!"

Esme kept walking away. She feared if she turned around to face her daughter she would say something she may later regret. Alice was being too cruel, but Esme couldn't argue with her because she knew Alice was right. Esme was too old and too plain, and this was all just a wicked joke.

Grabbing her keys from the bowl, it was Esme's turn to slam the front door. She was so angry right now, she worried it wasn't safe for her to drive, but she climbed into her car anyway.

Her eyes blurred with tears, but she shoved the key in the ignition and revved the gas pedal. Gripping the steering wheel, Esme blinked till her vision cleared and eventually she was able to reverse from the driveway.

She had no intention of doing the shoot, she had already made up her mind before Alice's filthy words, but she wasn't about to tell Alice that. Let her think her mother was doing it. That should teach her a lesson!

Esme drove more carefully than she had ever driven in her life. Her anger had yet to dissipate and her eyes kept filling with tears, so she paid extra attention to her manoeuvres.

This was all so ludicrous. Esme would not have been surprised if she'd watched the last fifteen minutes acted out on some silly teenage drama. The things Alice had said, the way she behaved, the pent up myriad of emotion Esme was struggling to keep contained. There was just too much. She knew she was angry and humiliated but what surprised Esme more was the hope she didn't realise she had been feeling.

Hope for what exactly?

That she could actually be deemed attractive enough to model? That a young, charming man had found her sexual? Or that she was finally starting to liver her life?

It could be a combination of all three, but now that hope was quashed by her need to shout and throw stuff.

She decided to go somewhere and cool off. Parking in front of a bar, Esme grabbed her purse and went inside.

It had been a long time since she'd been in a bar, but she knew on any of those distant occasions she had never been inside one alone.

The interior was dim, and she blinked as the door swung closed behind her, knocking her slightly on the bottom.

A few people, mostly men, turned to look at her, some allowed their gazes to linger, some smiled and started to whisper behind glasses of beer or their hands. She didn't want to think about what they might be saying. They probably assumed she was here to scout for men. If so, they couldn't be further from the truth.

"Can I help you?"

Esme looked over and found a handsome, smartly dressed bar tender watching her. He was smiling gently and cleaning a glass as he waited for her to respond.

The television was on low in the background. Esme stepped forward, feeling extremely nervous and silly for feeling that way.

"I just needed some place to go," she whispered, watching the other patrons and hoping they couldn't hear her.

"Hiding from someone?" The bartender leaned on the counter, as if he was now her co-conspirator.

Esme laughed softly. "Sort of. I just need to calm down. Do you serve coffee?"

"Of course." He gestured to a nearby stool and turned to the coffee machine behind him. Esme felt foolish for not noticing it before she'd asked.

He turned back with a cup in his hand and placed it down in front of her, along with a small jug of milk and a selection of sugars. Esme smiled up at him. "Thanks." She grabbed the cup and sipped, all the while trying to breathe deeply and calm her nerves, as well as forget about the hurtful things her daughter had said to her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She looked over at him again, and felt her cheeks redden. He was watching her intently. "It's nothing really, just an argument with my daughter."

"Teenager?" he asked.

Esme laughed. "How did you guess?"

The bartender pointed to a framed photograph behind the counter. In it were two males; himself and a young red haired boy. In the photo the bartender was smiling, his arm around the younger boys shoulders, and he too was laughing at their shared joke.

"My son," he told her, "he doesn't laugh with me anymore, he just grunts."

"Is that why it's framed, a golden memory from long ago?" She sipped her coffee but kept her eyes on him as she drank.

"Exactly." He laughed. Wiping his hands on a clean towel trapped in his belt, he then held one out to her. "Carlisle," he introduced himself, "owner and general dogsbody of this establishment."

Esme placed her hand in his, which felt cool and strong. "Esme," she told him, "divorced mother of one terrible teen."

Smiling, their hands stayed connected for a minute longer than necessary. Eventually Esme pulled free.

"Don't take whatever was said between you and your daughter to heart," he offered. "I've learned the hard way that teens act first and think later. It was probably the heat of the moment."

"What if it's too late to push it aside? She was pretty hurtful." Esme sighed.

He reached his hand out, and laid it gently on top of hers. It was a simple gesture but it spoke volumes of his understanding and compassion.

Esme pulled away again, and needing to do something to distract from his empathy, she reached into her purse to retrieved some money.

Carlisle waved before she could pull it free from the purse. "It's on the house."

"Oh, you really don't need to do that."

"I'd like to."

"But, I'd rather-"

"Can't a man buy you coffee?" he joked.

Esme released the money and smiled. "I guess he can." She blushed, and finding her keys, she stood to leave. "Thank you for the coffee, and the refuge," she told him.

"Anytime." He waved.

Esme shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun as she stepped outside. She felt more capable of holding a mature conversation with Jasper, without breaking down into tears.

She climbed into her car, confident she would be able to tell him no, and then walk away with her dignity intact.

She parked out front of his studio, and walked in. She was ready to flounce past the receptionist and straight inside when she realised the desk was empty. Esme sighed, she would save her flouncing for afterwards, she decided, and pushed open the inner studio door.

The area was dimly lit, but unlike the last time she was here, no shoot was taking place. Esme slowed her walk, looking around for any sign of him. She could see a red light illuminating the floor from behind a closed door, across the room. Walking over, she knocked gently and called out, "Jasper?"

"Give me a minute," he answered.

Esme walked back into the centre of the studio and crossed her arms. It was her best 'I mean business' stance. She wanted desperately to hold onto her determination, but was worried that as soon as Jasper started to speak, that accent and his charming smile would sway her resolve.

She heard the door open and close behind her, but she didn't turn to greet him. She waited for him to come to her.

Jasper was pleased to see Esme. She looked sexy in her tan pencil skirt, and beige silk blouse. Women didn't wear silk as often these days and Jasper wondered why. The material brushed against her skin, hinting at the figure beneath, and the softness hidden there. The sheen was inviting and as he approached her, smiling at the way she was holding herself, and her obvious struggle to stay in control of this moment, Jasper itched to run his hands down her arms to see if she felt as good as she looked.

"Hi," he said from close behind her. He liked seeing her jump a little. In fact, he thoroughly enjoyed seeing Esme's reactions to everything. She was like a child experiencing the world for the first time. He suddenly wanted to see her at Christmas and on her birthday, just so he could watch her.

Jasper stepped around Esme and stood facing her. He took note of her folded arms and he knew she was here to say no to the job offer.

"Hi," Esme replied. Her arms loosened but she didn't drop them.

"Would you like a drink?" He offered, gesturing to his decanter of whiskey. Esme shook her head.

"Jasper," she started, then paused to swallow, before starting again. "Jasper, I'm not going to do the modelling job. Thank you for your offer." She turned, ready to flounce.

"Why?" he asked, causing Esme to stop in her tracks.

"Excuse me?" She didn't expect him to want an explanation.

"Why? I want to hear a real good reason."

Esme dropped her arms. "I just don't want to."

"Not good enough."

"It will have to be," she argued, feeling like a petulant child.

Jasper stepped closer to her. He was taller than Esme but she refused to look up at him. She felt like that would give him all the power.

"I said a real good reason, Esme, not a childish one." His voice was low, almost seductive, and that damn accent of his. Esme stared at his feet and was thankful he wasn't wearing cowboy boots. What with his Southern twang and tight jeans, the boots would've swayed her for sure.

Esme didn't know what to say to him. "I don't wa-"

He quickly hooked his finger beneath her chin, and forced her to raise her eyes to his. "A good reason," he repeated.

"I can't do it."

"Why not?"

"I just can-"

"A good reason, Esme."

"I-" she didn't know how to voice her concerns. How did you tell someone you didn't feel good enough? "Am I a joke to you?" she asked instead.

Jasper frowned, his hand dropped away from her chin. "A joke?"

"Yes, a joke. Am I a joke?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Well, why else would you be asking me to do this? And sex toys? What kind of woman do you think I am? Would I be showing people how to use them?" Esme blushed.

"Of course not. It's not about masturbation, it's about discovery, but you'd know all that if you'd bothered to call and come talk to me."

"Well, I'm here now and I want to know why me."

"I've already told you, I think you're perfect for this campaign."

"That's not enough. Why am I perfect? I'm too old, too chubby, and this is just ridiculous. This whole concept; me, modelling, it's just ridiculous."

Jasper tilted his head but kept his eyes on hers. "This is my job," he stated.

"I know that, but-"

Jasper held his hand up to interrupt her. "This is my job," he continued. "Why would I risk my livelihood on a joke?"

He seemed mad, and Esme hated that she was the cause. She felt her determination dissipate in the wake of his mood change. "I don't know what to say." Esme felt silly. He was right, why would he risk his professional reputation to toy with her?

Jasper sighed, releasing some of his tension. He could see she wasn't a very confident person. That had been obvious since the first moment he'd met her. Someone must've said something to her, been whispering in her ear, causing doubt to surface.

He knew she had been interested, intrigued even by the job, and he also knew she would probably say no, but what surprised him was that he'd not only hoped she'd say yes, but he'd wanted her to trust him, and it was clear from this conversation that she didn't.

"Now, tell me again why your answer is no."

Esme felt tears well up in her eyes. She didn't want to cry, but when someone was about to expose their inner most fears and dislikes about themselves to another person, the only reaction to have was an emotional one.

"Please, don't you dare say you're too old, because I've already explained that you're in the ideal age bracket for the campaign."

Jasper wanted to make her feel just the way he saw her; extraordinary.

He knew it was fear holding her back. He knew it was lack of self esteem and confidence, but he also knew she was so much more than this. He could feel it in every fibre of his being. How could she not know how special she was? Jasper suddenly thought of her ex-husband, and questioned how their marriage had ended. Did he put her down, make her feel worthless? How could anyone not want to let her shine?

Jasper felt an overwhelming urge to be the one to break through her composure. He wanted more than Esme's face on this campaign, he wanted her to know she was luminous.

He had known from their first meeting she had that certain something. It wasn't anything specific that could be named. The French called it a _je ne sais quoi._ A tangible quality and Esme had it.

"And don't tell me you're not pretty enough, because I took your photo, remember?"

Esme nodded. She recalled saying she looked pretty as they'd looked over the images together.

"So tell me, why not?"

"I'm not sexy enough."

"Now that's ridiculous." Jasper scoffed, but not in a cruel way.

"It's true." Esme looked away from him. "I don't do sexy, Jasper. I don't even know where to start."

"You don't trust me?" he asked her.

Esme dropped her head and looked at her hands. "That's not the problem," she answered.

"Then you won't mind me showing you," he said and Esme gasped as he stepped around her until he was directly behind her. He pressed his groin into the small of her back, and rested his chin against the back of her head, but he kept his hands by his sides.

Esme wanted to step away, but instead she inhaled deeply and waited for his next move. She would show him that trust was not the issue here.

"This campaign is about sex, but it's also about innocence, and sensuality. You have those qualities. I can see it, but for you to work with me, you have to trust me. You will be wearing some very flimsy items which will expose your body to me, Esme."

The sound of her name spoken so close to her ear brought forth the gasp she was trying to stifle.

"I will see you in a way that no other man has seen you before. Not even your husband. You will show me want, need, and passion. Do you know how sensual those feelings are?"

Esme nodded. She was experiencing those right now.

"So, you see. You need to trust me."

"I do trust you," she whispered.

Jasper lifted his hand and gently ran it up along her arm, stopping at her shoulder. Then he did the same with his other hand. Her breathing quickened and Jasper looked down, seeing inside the top of her blouse. She had fastened all but three of her buttons, which made one of the cups of her bra visible from his vantage point.

Jasper moved his hands down to the buttons, and slowly unhooked them, allowing her blouse to fall open but not completely as her skirt held onto the edges she had tucked inside.

He slid his hands down to her waistband and tugged the silk free. Esme felt cool air blow over her skin which felt considerably hotter despite her being more exposed.

"Don't move," he told her, and then she felt him walk away. She kept her eyes closed, and just concentrated on breathing.

He returned quickly. "Show me you trust me," he said and Esme opened her eyes to see him holding his camera. He quickly took a picture before she could fully react. "Don't lose that look," he told her.

"What look?"

"Wonder," he explained.

Esme laughed. "I feel silly now,"

"So, think of something sexy."

Esme thought of his tight jeans and the curve of his bottom, and Jasper smiled. "Perfect!"

Esme blushed. If only he knew what had caused that faraway look in her eyes.

"How can you not feel sexy, Esme?" he asked. "You _are_ sexy; the curve of your neck, the colour of your skin. It's like peaches and cream."

"I've never felt sexy," she answered.

"But you are an attractive woman." He continued taking photos.

"Of course I've felt attractive, but never sexy. Sexy is a different feeling altogether."

"So, you tell me what you think makes a person sexy?"

"Their body-"

Jasper shook his head. "Sexy isn't about a person's physique. It's about the way they think, talk, and walk. Those things speak volumes."

"And you think I'm – sexy?" Esme's voice teetered on the last word.

Jasper stopped taking photos. Touching something on the camera, he set it down, the lens facing her, and walked over to stand looking down at her. She tilted her head back and gazed back at him. She heard a click and realised his camera was on automatic settings. He was photographing this exchange.

Jasper tugged the blouse from her shoulders, letting it fall into a pool of silk at their feet. He lifted one hand, and ran his index finger along the edge of her bra, across the swell of her breast.

Esme heard a click and felt a shiver work down her spine.

His lips parted and she watched in fascination as his tongue licked slowly along the bottom one; she wanted to taste it.

Another click. Esme felt her nipples pucker.

His eyes lifted to find hers, but his were hooded as if he, too, was lost in this intimate moment. It surprised Esme to see his reaction to her. He _was_ sexy, she was bound to be hypnotised by him, but the other way round? She didn't expect that.

He lowered his head till his nose met the curve between her neck and shoulder. Her hair was tied back in a sophisticated French knot, which left her bare and ready for his attention. He nudged her skin, gently stroking with the tip of his nose, and inhaled, and Esme understood he was smelling her skin.

She was thankful for her expensive taste in perfume.

Another click echoed around the silent studio, and Esme closed her eyes, letting her head fall back, giving him full access to her throat.

Jasper moved his hands to the slope at the base of Esme's spine, his hands resting just above her bottom. He could feel the dip and swell of her shape, and it was his turn to shudder as he moved his hands and let his thumbs tickle her waist. He could feel her shiver under his touch.

Softly, he brushed his hands up her sides, until his thumbs reached her armpits. Esme's breath was deep and uneven, but he wanted her to feel more. He wanted her to feel what he was feeling.

"Take my shirt off," he instructed.

Esme held her breath.

Click.

"Trust me," he said and felt her nod, and then tentatively she tugged his shirt free from his jeans. He inhaled to give more room, and as Esme lifted the clothing up and over his body, her hands brush his ribs, and then biceps.

She enjoyed the strength she felt there. He was toned but not muscular, and Esme took her time looking over his naked chest and stomach, down to the tapered lines of his hips as they disappeared into those wonderful jeans.

Jasper rested his lips against her forehead. They were parted and she could feel his breath fan through her hair. His fingers found the pins trapped in the French knot, and he pulled them free, capturing the tresses as they spilled in soft waves down her back.

Click.

Esme closed her eyes and touched him; his chest, a nipple, down his back, back up his sides, over his ribs and down to the waistband.

Click.

Jasper closed his eyes and traced a finger down her shoulder and arm, over her waist, up her ribcage and under her breasts, then over the swell of skin above the cups of her bra.

Click.

They didn't remove any more clothing. The partial skin-to-skin contact was enough. He wanted Esme to understand sensuality didn't have to include nudity, and sexual could be about more than sight.

He knew _he_ could feel it. His heart was beating hard, and he reached down to take Esme's hand, pressing it over his chest, showing her how much he was feeling the moment.

She gazed up at him, and copied his move; lifting his hand to her chest, turning it so his palm cupped her breast. Her heart was beating just as much as his.

Their eyes locked, their hands stilled. The only sounds in the room were heavy breathing and camera clicks.

"Do you feel that?" he asked. Esme nodded. "Tell me what you feel?"

"Intimacy," she whispered.

"What else?"

"I feel -" Esme paused, surprised by what she is about to admit. "I feel sexy," he finished, and broke into a wide smile.

Jasper smiled back down at her. "Don't ever tell me you don't know sexy, Esme. This is one of the most erotic moments in my life."

Esme nodded. "Mine, too."

"Will you work with me?" he asked. "Will you trust me, and model for me and show the world just how sexy Esme Evenson really is?"

Esme took just a moment to reply. She thought on what Alice had said to her, how disgusting the thought of her mother modelling was to her. She remembered Charles and the way he referred to her as vanilla.

Well, maybe she was vanilla; there was nothing wrong with that, but sometimes even vanilla needed a little something extra.

Esme heard the camera click again, and realised it was still capturing their intimacy. At first she had waited for each click, and had relaxed even more with each and every one of them, until soon, she'd completely forgotten this was all being photographed.

Jasper had made her feel confident and comfortable, and no pressure at all to perform. Every movement, every breath, had been natural, and he had said it was the most erotic experience he'd had.

Was it possible that Esme didn't need any actions, any props, or any pretence at all?

She had felt his heart, and heard his breathing. He had been just as lost in the moment as she had been.

And Esme had been truthful when she'd said she felt sexy.

"Yes," she told him with a newly discovered self-belief. "I'll do it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Written for Babypups Whitlock, because she's lovely. Prompt used is 'Early Winter' by Keane.**

**AcrossTheSkyInStars aka Tanya aka my beta and best friend is not only a wonderful person and teacher, but she is also a fabulous writer. Please make sure you check out her stories, especially 'Forgive me, please'.**

**I have a page on facebook called 'Claire Bloom Guyan Writes'. Come and join if you would like more information regarding any of my stories from past, present and future.**

**Rated 'M' for sexual content, reference and nudity.**

**Chapter four**

Jasper smiled – no, he positively beamed at Esme. His grin was wide and sincere, and taking her hand, he bent to retrieve their discarded clothing from the floor before leading her to the sofa.

He gestured for Esme to sit, then released her hand and started to connect his camera to the television.

She knew within minutes their half naked images would be displayed on the huge screen and she would be confronted with her body; inflated for the screen ratio, large as life, straight in her face, no holds barred.

She suddenly felt sick.

Esme had yet to put her blouse back on, and even though she had felt incredibly comfortable in her half-dressed state up until five seconds ago, she now felt exposed.

Esme covered her bra by crossing her arms across her chest, clutching her blouse between her now sweating fingers. She needed to get dressed.

Standing quickly, Esme struggled into her blouse, but one of sleeves was inside out, and the cuff was still fastened; her hand got entangled and she groaned with frustration as she flung her arm, trying to escape the fabric.

Jasper stopped and turned, watching Esme with fascination – and then understanding – as he realised she was upset.

Leaving the camera on the table, he rushed over to her side and pulled her twisted blouse from her arm. He unbuttoned the cuff, and held out the garment for her to step into with his assistance. Esme hesitated and then turned her back to him, and lifting her arms, she slid them inside the sleeves, free of any obstacles this time. Jasper let go immediately. It was clear she was upset and he feared he had pushed past her boundaries.

"Esme-"

He started to say he was sorry but she moved and faced him. "I have to go," she said, crossing her arms again.

"Don't you want to see the photos?" Jasper asked. His shirt was still on the floor, and Esme tried to avert her eyes from his chest. She tried very hard indeed but he just looked too good.

She trailed up his torso, hungry for the sight of him, and momentarily distracted from her need to leave. Those damn jeans looked even better when the rest of him was naked.

Esme shook her head as if to clear it. "No, I want to go," she muttered.

"You're upset?" he asked, thinking it was because of the photographs. He hadn't verbally asked her permission, but it seemed obvious to him that she regretted what had happened.

There had been no kisses, no touches beyond a stroke and a caress. Only their tops had been removed, yet Jasper knew those few intimate moments with Esme would feature heavily in his sexual fantasies for a while to come.

He was surprised by how aroused he had become from something which could only be deemed as innocent. It had moved him, but he started to doubt Esme thought the same, and Jasper felt hurt and a little angry.

She had agreed to work with him, and trust him, but now she was withdrawing again.

"Esme," he spoke softly and thought about pulling her arms free of her body, ridding her of the barrier. He needed to know why she sought protection by shielding herself, especially from him.

He knew he was treading a fine line with her, and that she had less experience than him, despite her being older. He knew when he'd asked her that he'd have to convince her, he'd predicted that, but seeing her feel so vulnerable actually made him regret pushing this on her.

"I'm sorry if I crossed the line. Everything that happened felt natural. I was lost in the moment. I didn't mean to upset you."

Esme looked at him. "You think I'm upset by that?" She shook her head. "No, Jasper. I – liked what happened." She ducked her head and smiled to herself, the butterflies in her tummy springing back to life as she remembered the way his skin had felt pressed against her own.

"Then why the sudden 360?" he asked.

"It's hard to explain."

"Try me."

Esme considered arguing, but instead she settled for just being honest. "I don't want to see myself."

For the longest time, Jasper didn't reply. Then he said, "Can I ask you a question?"

Esme nodded.

"Are you afraid to see yourself as _you_ see you, or as _I_ see you?"

"I don't understand." Esme shook her head as if to illustrate.

"You think you're plain and lacklustre," Esme looked hurt so Jasper rushed on to explain, "Darlin, you're anything but those things. You're so incredibly sexy I can't even begin to explain. You think when you look at those photos you will either see what _you_ think you are," Jasper gently touched Esme's forehead, strengthening his words, showing her that thinking of herself in such a way was unfathomable to him, "or, you will see what I see."

He moved his hand down to hers, and then taking hold of her index finger, he moved it to his own forehead and pressed it there, as if Esme could see into his mind just from this simple touch.

She found his eyes and was suddenly lost in the emotion she saw there. He was unashamed to show her. It was so real and unmasked.

"Who told you all those things?" he asked. "Who said you weren't sexy, adventurous, or sensual? Whoever he was, they didn't see you, not really."

Esme shook her head again, and then looked away. "I'm not any of those things."

"Yet."

Esme looked back at him.

"You're not any of those things, yet," he said. Esme gave him a small smile. "Can I ask you another question?" Esme raised one brow, and Jasper took that as a yes. "Have you ever masturbated?"

Esme quickly pulled her hands from his, as if the very word had scolded her. "Jasper!"

Jasper laughed, and tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans, leaving just his thumbs showing. He rocked back on the balls of his feet.

"Oh, I'm glad I amuse you." She tried to sound angry but instead she came off as sulky.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yes there is," she argued.

"So? Have you?"

"I don't want to answer that."

"Which means no," Jasper chuckled. He held his hand up as Esme opened her mouth to argue with him. "I'm also guessing you don't look at yourself naked, either."

A fleeting image of Esme standing nude after a shower, her skin glistening in the steamy bathroom, implanted in Jasper's mind, and he wanted desperately to enjoy that thought, but he pushed it aside to deal with this instead.

"Why would you assume that?" Esme thought about the times she had sat at her vanity mirror after bathing. She would sit naked but could only see her body down to the waist. She didn't like to look any further. He was partially right.

"Because you don't want to view images of yourself."

"A lot of people don't like to look at themselves, in photographs or mirrors."

"True, and that comes from low self-esteem. You have that, which is how I know you've never looked at yourself, and I mean _really_ looked at yourself." He grinned and Esme knew what he was implying; that she had never looked down _there_. "And that you've never masturbated," he finished.

"What has any of that got to do with this?"

"I want you to take this home with you." Jasper picked up a box and handed it to Esme. The box was sealed, but she had an idea of what was inside. "You want me to use them?" she asked.

Jasper laughed. "Well, I meant to look at, satisfy your curiosity; if that means playing with them, by all means."

Esme snatched the box from him and placed it by her feet. "Why do you keep laughing at me?" she wanted to sound mad but this time she was smiling back at him.

"You're too cute," he said, and before she could argue anymore, he continued, "let me talk to you about the campaign. We can forget those other photos, for now. Let's just talk." He held his hand out to her.

Esme paused for a beat and then decided there was no harm in talking, and she was intrigued by the campaign and what ideas he had for it. She was still pretty confident her answer would remain 'no', but she really did want to hear what he had to say.

They walked back to the sofa, and Esme sat down and waited whilst Jasper gathered a file and two glasses, his decanter of whiskey, and finally – much to Esme's disappointment – his shirt from the floor.

He poured them both a snifter and handed Esme hers. She took it gratefully. Aware she needed something to calm her nerves.

She watched him lift his glass and inhale slowly. She had seen people smell their wine before, but never a whiskey. He placed the rim of the glass to his bottom lip, the lip she kept imaging between her teeth, and then tilted it. The amber liquid reached his slightly parted mouth, and spilled gently inside. He moved the glass away and darted his tongue out, catching the residue remaining.

It was like an erotic dance to Esme. He was simply taking a sip yet she was utterly hypnotised.

She wondered what that tongue and those lips could do to a woman. She didn't know for sure as Charles had never enjoyed participating in oral sex with her, so she was no expert, but she was pretty sure if Jasper did enjoy that type of thing, the lucky woman involved would have no complaints.

Esme tried to erase the image of Jasper and his tongue from her mind, and concentrate as Jasper showed her the diagrams he'd made of the shoot. He'd had three ideas and each draft was detailed with lighting, what props would be involved, positioning of said props, clothing, and even filtering which, Jasper explained, would soften the photograph.

He told her some of the tricks they used to blur the pictures, like they did in the old movies, and he explained which camera he would use for each idea. Esme found herself listening attentively to him. It was fascinating to hear that different cameras, lenses, and even films could completely alter the way a photograph worked. He even showed her some examples of his other work.

The afternoon ticked away, but Esme was too engrossed in his company to really notice. As she had driven here, she only drank the one glass of whiskey, but it was all she'd needed to relax and forget about her concerns. She settled back into the sofa cushions, happy to just be here with him.

Even though Jasper talked nonstop about the campaign and his work, it was not a one-sided conversation. She asked him questions and thoroughly enjoyed his enthusiasm as he replied.

Jasper suddenly noticed the time and apologised for keeping Esme. "I'm so sorry," he said.

"You obviously love your job." She smiled.

"I didn't mean to bore you."

"You didn't," she assured him.

Jasper picked up the box, and helping Esme to her feet, he kept a hold of her hand as he walked her to her car.

She waited while he placed the box on her back seat, and turned to face her. That sudden awkward feeling returned. It was as if they were on a first date and she was unsure if he would kiss her or not. She wanted him to.

"I had a nice time today," she finally told him, needing to break the silence. There was only so long she could stare at him before he thought she was crazy.

"Me too," he told her. "Esme, I don't mean to push, but your answer about the campaign?"

"I want to do it," she began.

"But you're not really sure," he finished for her.

Esme nodded. "I keep going back and forth. It does help knowing what you have in store for the shoot. It helps give me a clearer picture, but I just don't see _me_ in those photos."

"But it won't be you," Jasper said. "It will be a variation of you. A woman who has found her sexual confidence, who knows her body and what she needs, and is happy to explore it."

Esme was tired of blushing whenever she was near him, but with his words and that Southern accent, she couldn't do anything else. He was talking about her doing very private things, and it embarrassed her.

Jasper placed one hand on her car door and bent to kiss her cheek, but as he moved, so did she, and his lips touched to the corner of hers, briefly.

Jasper moved away and was a little disappointed when Esme got into her car and reached for the door handle.

He waited whilst she opened the window, and bending, he leaned his elbows on the frame and grinned at her.

"I'll see you soon," she told him.

Jasper raised his hand to his head in mock salute, and winked. "Goodnight, Darlin'." He moved back, and Esme tried to start the car with shaky fingers. She was thankful when the key found the slot and the engine roared.

She lifted her foot from the pedal, unaware she had floored it after his not-really-real-kiss and the way he had called her 'Darlin'.

She tried to focus on the windscreen and driving her car away safely, and not on looking back at him.

That man was too damn distracting.

She drove home on autopilot, surprised when ten minutes later she pulled into her driveway. She was thankful she'd made it home in one piece. Today had really tested her driving capabilities; since the departure from her house after her confrontation with Alice that morning, and her frazzled nerves after almost being kissed.

She knew it was ridiculous to feel this way about a man – a younger man, at that – but Esme was sick and tired of caring and playing by the rules. Being half naked with him today had awoken something deep inside, and Esme was eager to explore those feelings.

Grabbing the box, she practically raced inside, up the stairs, and into her bedroom. She prayed Alice wasn't home, or was still mad and ignoring her mother.

She placed the box down on her bed, and backed away, rubbing her hands together. She couldn't decide if she was excited or scared by what was inside.

She'd guessed it was the sex toys she would be advertising, _if_ she did the campaign.

Esme bent down to pull off her shoes. They were plain black court shoes, with a practical heel and a rounded toe. Everything in her life was so carefully thought out and safe.

Safe.

Vanilla.

She was so sick of that reference.

With an urge to break free of those constantly constricting boundaries she had erected around her life, Esme tore open the box and spilled the contents onto her duvet.

There were things there she had no idea what to do with, or what they could do, or even how they might fit.

Esme lifted a ten inch, black dildo off the bed. Her hands circled the girth and she was shocked to feel ridges, making it not only look like a real penis, but feel like one too, from what she could remember of holding Charles' once or twice.

Dropping the dildo, her eyes landed on two small balls. They were bright pink and had a beaded line attached, and when Esme touched them, she was surprised to find they had a gel-like feel to them, making them soft and pliable. As Esme squeezed, the balls began to vibrate.

"Good Lord!" Esme dropped them and laughed as they shook on the bed, hitting the black dildo and sending that into a pulsating frenzy, too.

Esme quickly grabbed the penis and tried to find the 'off' switch. All she needed was for the entire bed to start shaking and bring Alice in there.

Eventually Esme turned them off, and sitting down on the edge of her bed, she chuckled to herself.

This was ludicrous.

She couldn't believe she was in her room, surrounded by sex toys and considering stripping and posing for a photo shoot advertising sexual gratification.

Gratification? As if she had any idea what that word meant! Esme had never even had an orgasm.

Of course she had enjoyed making love to Charles, but after her afternoon with Jasper she recalled how there were no sparks with Charles. Why had she never craved that heat? How had she never known this vital ingredient in their relationship was missing?

She really was naive.

Esme didn't want to be vanilla, and she didn't want to be naive anymore. She had a heat inside of her. She'd felt it when Jasper had tenderly stroked her breast, just above her bra. She had wanted to feel his palms cup her naked flesh and flick her nipple.

The minute she admitted that to herself, a spark ignited in her gut, and Esme felt a rush of warmth.

She closed her eyes and allowed her imagination to wonder; his fingers undoing the clasp of her bra, his hands on her breasts, flicking her nipple – Esme moaned at the thought of him doing that, and she welcomed that knot in her tummy again. She considered what it would feel like to have his mouth capture that nipple. His tongue would be warm and wet.

Esme eyes flew open. She felt hot. She needed air.

Standing, she stripped off her clothes, including her underwear, and slowly turning towards the vanity mirror she stood and surveyed her body in all its glory; the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the outline of muscle in her thigh.

She still felt warm, especially down there, and still standing, Esme parted her thighs slightly and moved her hand down to that area.

She had never touched herself this way before.

She was surprised to find moisture.

The skin felt swollen and tender, but not painful. It felt good to touch, and dipping her hand in further, she found her clitoris.

Esme gasped as her finger glided over the little button. She closed her eyes and lifted her other hand to her breast, and tugged on her nipple, pretending it was Jasper's teeth.

Esme had never been into fast sex, it was usually slow and...well, hesitant with Charles. She couldn't think of any other way to describe it. But right now, she felt a need building inside and that _need_ was to _feel_.

Her knees shook as her fingers found a rhythm. Esme decided to take this to the bed, but she wanted to still see herself so she angled the vanity mirror before she laid down, checking she was visible from that angle.

Satisfied she could see everything, Esme kicked the toys to one side. She didn't have a use for them tonight, for she had her imagination and a certain Southern gentleman at her minds beck and call.

One hand found her nipple again, and her other hand her clit. She didn't dare dip her fingers inside, she was happy with the friction for now.

Keeping her eyes on the mirror, Esme watched in the dim light as her hands teased and stroked, and her chest started to rise and fall as each breath came deeper and faster.

Her legs were fully parted and she could clearly see her hand in the mirror, and what it was doing to her.

To see that hand, the motion, the speed at which she moved, and to _feel_ it building, growing, lifting her, was insurmountable.

Esme had never, ever felt this before. She was about to have her first orgasm, and she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

She arched her back and quickened her pace. The waves of pleasure quite literally took her breath away, and as she exhaled and stiffened her limbs, the orgasm spreading throughout her entire body – from the tips of her fingers down to the ends of her toes – she called out.

"Jasper! Oh God!"

Her hand stilled, her clit suddenly too sensitive to touch, and she waited for her heartbeat and her breathing to return to normal. She silently prayed Alice was not home to hear that.

Her body relaxed and she smiled to herself.

Vanilla indeed!

That was the best damn sex she'd ever had!

Still naked and above her duvet, Esme drifted off to sleep, happy, content, and feeling pretty proud of herself, and quite grateful to Jasper.

He had known all along she was ready for this, and he had generously given her the tools to unlock the door to her sexual side, and she wasn't referring to the sex toys. His gift had been to give her confidence, and she had finally found the real Esme.

There would be no more hiding. It was time to share.


	5. Chapter 5

Written for Babypups whitlock because she is lovely. Prompt used is 'Early Winter' by Keane.

Thank you to my beautiful beta and little sister Tanya, aka AcrossTheSkyInStars. x

Chapter five

Jasper stayed seated after Esme left. He nursed his glass of whiskey in one hand, and clicked through the single buttoned remote with the other, his eyes transfixed on the large screen TV.

Images of Esme passed at a three second speed, and Jasper enjoyed every single one of them.

Her innocence transferred easily to the camera, whether it was her eyes crinkled half closed in mid laughter, or her shy smile as her gaze was downcast, she could not hide that inner purity, and this was what had made Jasper so sure she was the ideal candidate for the campaign.

But he didn't just want her for the job anymore. In those few minutes of intimacy, her blouse laying in a silken heap on the floor at their feet, her hands gently stroking his back in virtuous wonder, he had found her utterly breathtaking.

The pictures moved on and Jasper watched as the scene he had been reliving in his memory appeared in high definition, before returning back to the beginning of the slideshow again.

The first photograph was of Esme standing in the centre of his studio. Her tan pencil skirt was tight against her thighs and the curve of her bottom. The silk blouse was hanging open, the sheer fabric clinging to her shoulders, the buttons unfastened all the way down, and the edges tugged free of her skirt. He could clearly see the slight creases from where it had been pushed inside her waistband.

Her bra was a golden, beige with chocolate brown trim. The cups held her breasts high, but not ridiculously so.

He marvelled at her physique and wondered again, who had told Esme she wasn't sexy. Jasper had seen many beautiful models and girlfriends, all naked and wanting, and explicit in their sexuality, yet none could hold a candle to Esme in her half naked state of undress.

In the photograph, her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted as she waited for him. She hadn't known he was about to take her picture, and it showed in the following image as her stance remained the same but her face had broken into a smile, a slight hue tinged her cheeks as she had started to blush. Her eyes were still closed.

The next photo showed a slight angle to Esme's lips and Jasper remembered she had been talking; asking him what he considered was sexy. Her confidence had slipped a little, and her shoulders were raised slightly higher than they had been in the previous image. He could see she had felt tense in that photograph.

The screen flashed onto the next photo, and in this one Jasper was standing close and looking down at her. She had opened her eyes and was gazing back at him, fascination evident on her face as she waited for his next move.

The following image was Jasper running his index finger along the swell of her breast, close to the cup of her golden bra. Her blouse lay crumpled on the floor behind her.

Jasper watched as the photographs passed, one after the other, helping him relive the moment.

His jeans grew tight and he shuffled on the sofa, trying to make room. It didn't help.

He looked back up at the TV screen; his nose was now buried in the crook of her neck, her chin was raised slightly, allowing him access.

Jasper inhaled as he looked at the photo. He could still smell her perfume.

The slideshow continued and this time the picture was of Jasper. He was shirtless with his hands grasping Esme's hair as it fell in soft, caramel waves through his fingers. His lips were pressed against her forehead. Her hands were on his chest.

Jasper fidgeted again, his jeans had become ridiculously uncomfortable. Feeling a little naughty and not sure why, he reached down and unzipped them, tugging the denim down his hips and away from his groin. He smiled as he felt the restriction lift, and he was now free to grow.

The photo's kept coming, and as Jasper's hand stroked his erection he knew with each passing picture, with every visual reminder of how hard his heart had been beating, how soft her skin had felt, and how good she'd smelt, that he would be coming pretty hard and embarrassingly fast too.

Jasper closed his eyes, and from behind his lids he could see the flash of light as the photo's kept moving. He knew the slideshow had started again, but in his mind he was stuck at one particular moment; with his finger on her breast.

He exaggerated the memory and imagined he had pulled the fabric away from her body, her pink nipple swollen to a tight little nub was begging for his tongue and teeth.

Imagination Jasper obeyed and pulled it in, savouring her moans as she clung to his back.

Jasper was shocked at the aggression of his orgasm. It was hard, pumping and left him breathless.

And it had only taken a nipple to get him there.

When he could catch his breath again, Jasper laughed, and loosened his hold on his now overly sensitive dick.

H e sat and smiled, amazed at how much he had needed the release. Esme had done that to him, she had created this need and had left him wanting, and despite the fact that he had found that release only seconds before, he knew he wanted her for real; naked, sweating, and beneath him.

Jasper looked around for some tissue. He found the box across the studio and feeling languid and lazy, he decided to use his shirt instead, and so for the second time that day it came off. He cleaned himself up and sat back, switching the channel from the slideshow to regular TV.

He felt like a horny teenager, and laughing out loud he wondered if Esme had felt adventurous enough to take a look at the box of tricks he had made her take home, or better yet, had she used anything from inside?

The idea of Esme handling those toys, and running their vibrations over her body was enough to rouse Jasper from his lazy state. He rested his head on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. He imagined Esme naked and sprawled across her bed.

He had no idea what her bedroom looked like, but in his mind's eye it was quite the boudoir. Her head would be thrown so far back it would be hanging off the side.

Jasper touched himself again, and let his mind wander but he wasn't really feeling it. He realised his imagination had gotten Esme all wrong. She wasn't a seductress, and her bedroom would probably be modest and comfortable. He assumed it would decorated in neutral shades, as she seemed to wear those colours frequently, and from what he'd seen of the downstairs of her home, she liked things clean and beige.

Most people would find that boring, but with Esme it was warm.

In his mind he changed the bedroom from tacky to indistinct, and Esme from wanton to shy and modest, trying to hide her nudity which only enhanced his longing to look at all of her.

The intensity returned and he stroked his length with vigour, moaning and whispering her name, so she knew, deep within the recess of his mind that it was her who made him feel like this. And it felt so good.

It took him longer to climax this time, but considering he was at it within minutes of the last round, Jasper wasn't surprised. He was clearly enjoying his fantasy, and reaching for the remote he clicked the TV back to the slideshow and smiled as the studio was illuminated by the screen, displaying his visual sex aid.

His favourite photo appeared; the one of Esme standing laughing, and her blouse hanging open. She looked so free and happy, a natural pose that photographers found difficult to capture. Oh sure, they could command a pose from their models, but to make it seem so unforced was an art form, and Esme truly was a picture.

He closed his eyes to find himself greeted by his imaginary Esme, and opened them to see the perfect photographs of the real Esme.

He stroked whilst switching from one to the other; his mind, the screen, eyes closed, eyes open, all the while focusing on her purity, her sweetness, her enthusiasm to try, and with a grunt that resembled an animal Jasper gripped his dick as he came for the second time that hour.

Forgetting to clean up, and get redressed, Jasper relaxed back into his sofa and dozed.

When he awoke some time later, he felt cold and dirty. He made his way to the shower and then to his bed. Gripping one pillow to his chest, he pretended he was spooning a warm and willing Esme as he fell back asleep.

He was excited to see her again tomorrow, and he wondered if she felt the same way about him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Written for Babypups Whitlock because she is lovely. Prompt used is Early Winter by Keane. A huge thank you and squishy hugs to my beta, AcrossTheSKyInStars.**

**This chapter is currently un-beta'd so please forgive my errors, but as soon as Tanya has finished with it, I will replace with the beta'd version. x**

**Chapter six**

Esme woke with a crick in her neck and a chill to her bones.

Feeling slightly disorientated from her deep sleep, she curled into a ball, reaching for and dragging the duvet up and over her head.

Shivering, she snuggled deeper and curled tighter, seeking warmth.

Smiling to herself, she rubbed her cheek against the pillow and sighed. She began to feel comfortable again, and stretching out, Esme knocked something with her leg. It started to vibrate, and hit the back of her thigh.

Her eyes popped open, and with a little squeal, Esme jumped up and covered her mouth with her hand when she spotted the assortment of sex goodies scattered across her bed.

Suddenly realising she had felt cold because she was naked, and she had spent the night sleeping on top of her blankets after falling into an orgasm induced sleep, Esme gripped the duvet tighter to her chest. It was silly to try to hide her embarrassment, because there was no one else in the room.

Esme laughed and relaxed slightly, laying back down on her bed, she threw one hand above her head and twirled her hair which had spread out on the pillow beneath her.

She'd had fun last night. She was hoping she could keep one or two of the treats from the naughty box, and wondered if Jasper had kept inventory of the contents, and if he would notice if any were missing.

Feeling positively wicked Esme put her hand out towards the toys. She didn't look to where her hand fell, she just grabbed the first thing she touched, and flicking the switch, she giggled, closed her eyes and smiled, then thought of Jasper as the toy worked it's magic.

She allowed her mind to seduce Jasper, and she marvelled at how brazen she could be inside her own head. The things she wouldn't dare say to him out loud, the way she touched him, kissed him, and took command over his and her own pleasure.

Shivering with delight, Esme wished she could let her inner sex kitten free, and be that way in real life. She climaxed and dropped the vibrator on the bed and stretched like a satisfied kitten.

It suddenly occurred to her that playing with vibrators was a long way away from vanilla, and if Charles could see her now, he would be shocked at her new found sexual appetite.

It was his fault he had never taken the time to unlock her hidden desires, Esme thought. Oh the fun they could've had if he had only been patient and receptive.

Like Jasper.

Jasper had barely touched her yet he had reached inside and beckoned forth a part of Esme which she didn't even realise had existed.

It surprised Esme to learn that someone she had been married too, had known for years, and shared a life, a home and a child with, never really knew her. Yet a man she'd only just met had stirred something deep inside and made her _want_ to be discovered, opened up and played like a sensuous instrument.

How could someone know you, but never really _know_ you? Esme wondered.

And how could a guy not even know your favourite colour, yet he understood your insecurities?

Jasper aroused more than Esme's libido, he fascinated her. This only made her more determined to show him just how much she appreciated his belief in her.

Esme wanted to shower, but before she left the bedroom she selected another item from the bed; three little pearl shaped luminous pink balls. Esme had no idea what she was supposed to do with them, but luckily she found an instruction pamphlet inside the box.

The diagrams made her eyebrows rise, but she giggled and thought _why not_ and using some lubricant, also in the box, she inserted the balls and clutched the edge of her bed, as the balls began their gentle rocking inside her.

"Oh good Lord!" Esme breathed, and abandoned her shower to lie back and let them work their magic.

It wasn't as intense as the vibrators she had already toyed with, but the pleasure was deeper, and the gentleness was just that touch more intense.

She could feel her nipples react, her skin prickle with goose bumps, and deciding she had been teased enough, Esme reached for the vibrator with a bunny face sticking out the front, and with clumsy hands she managed to turn it on.

The pleasure was too much to bear, and without caring if Alice was home, Esme groaned loudly, and writhed as balls and bunny, and sliding metal bearings rocked, and rolled and buzzed all over her vagina.

All thoughts of Jasper, or Charles or even her own sex vixen self, flew out of Esme's mind. All she could do was 'feel'. Thinking was impossible; she was totally lost in the realms of the most intense physical pleasure.

With one hand clutching the rabbit, her legs spread as far as she could get them Esme walked her hand up and over her stomach and ribs, and found her breast. Pinching her nipple she tugged and pulled it, and cried out as her orgasm hit, rendering her immobile as her limbs locked and her breathed caught.

She stayed trapped in the ripples of pleasure for many seconds, and eventually felt her body relax. Laying exhausted and laughing, Esme pulled the balls free and tossed them and her other toy to one side, grabbed her duvet and curled backup tight.

Her shower could wait. Right now she needed a nap.

Picking the toys up from her bed, Esme took them into her bathroom and washed them all in warm soapy water, being careful not to submerge the battery operated parts.

She laid them gently on a soft, fluffy towel to dry and stepped under her shower, taking her time to enjoy the warmth and the smell of her favourite body-wash.

Wrapping her hair up in a turban style, Esme donned her bathrobe and slippers and walked into her bedroom to find Alice sat on her bed.

Esme panicked and glanced around, finding no evidence of her toy antics on display, as they were all lined up next to her sink, she relaxed slightly.

"Alice, you startled me."

"And you embarrass me!" She sniped back.

Esme sighed. "What now?"

"Where is he?" Alice crossed her arms and glared at Esme.

Esme was confused. "Who?"

"The man you were - doing things with all night." Alice shuddered. The thought of her mother enjoying a healthy sex life was just too much.

"I-,"

"Don't even try to deny it, Mother. I _heard_ you!"

"Oh." Esme felt her cheeks redden. She hadn't cared at the time, just how loud she was being, or if Alice was home but in the cold light of day she realised she did care.

"So? Where is he?" Alice stood up and walked towards the bathroom. Esme, not wanting Alice to find her paraphernalia, closed the door before Alice reached it. "In there?" Alice pointed, suspicious.

"No, Alice."

"Who was it? Jasper? Dad?"

"God, no!" Esme reacted.

"Well there was someone because you sounded like you were starring in a po-," Alice stopped. " .God, were you practising?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"You were, weren't you? You were practising for that porno you're about to star in! You're unbelievable!"

Esme was tired of listening to Alice and her childish, selfish tantrums. "Get out!"

Alice stopped ranting and stared at her mother, but made no move to leave.

"I said get out!" Esme raised her voice, and walking towards Alice she placed her hand on her back and shoved her towards the door. "Now you listen to me, Alice, I am not starring in a pornographic movie. I am not posing for a pornographic photo shoot. I am not having mind blowing sex with Jasper, and most definitely not with your father. But what I am doing is taking care of me for a change, so if you don't mind, I have an engagement to get too."

Alice spun around to face her. "You're going to look stupid, you know that don't you? You're old, and look nothing like a model. It's ridiculous of you to even think you can pull this off!"

For the first time in Esme's life, her palm itched to smack her daughter. Distant memories of her baby girl giggling and playing and constantly chasing after her mother, idolising her and wanting to be with her all the time, flashed through Esme's mind. It broke her heart that she had grown into such a selfish and nasty young woman.

"Where did I go wrong with you?" Esme asked, shaking her head, before closing her bedroom door.

She leant her back against it and tried to control her breathing. She was so mad at Alice.

How dare she! What gave her the right to say such awful things to anyone, never mind her mother?

Esme pulled the towel from her head and angrily rubbed at her hair.

Alice's words reverberated through her ears, but the more she heard them, the more determined Esme felt that she was going to go through with this.

She dressed carefully, choosing her nicest underwear. There was nothing spectacular in wardrobe but they were of the finest material and in excellent condition, besides, she had no doubt that the clothing she may or may not be wearing for the shoot would be provided by Jasper and the company they were doing the campaign for, but that didn't mean she couldn't look and feel nice as she made her way there.

Her bra was a deep red, with intricate lace detail along the cups. Her briefs matched, with the same lace design across the high leg. Turning, Esme admired her bottom in the mirror. The combination of deep red lace against her pale skin made her bum cheeks and thighs look creamy and soft. Esme thought she looked pretty damn good, and wondered why she had never worn this underwear before today.

She lifted the matching suspender belt from the drawer and pulled it on. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Esme made a fuss of gently sweeping the stockings up her legs, caressing to smooth them just like they did in the movies. She extended her leg out and flexed her toes. Esme laughed and standing she walked to her dresser and chose her designer perfume, a light floral and amber fragrance, and her pearl earrings and necklace.

Moving back to her wardrobe, Esme pulled on her red wrap over dress, and tied it tighter than she usually wore it. She felt really good, and actually quite sexy, but also a little scared to turn and look in the mirror. There were many times when she had felt good but her reflection had altered that perception. She didn't need that today. She needed to stay focused and in sexy vixen mode for the shoot.

Taking a calming breath, Esme pulled on her red pumps and ignoring the mirror, she grabbed her purse and keys and made her way downstairs.

"You look pretty."

Esme turned to find Alice sat at the breakfast bar. She was eating popcorn and reading a magazine. Esme didn't want another confrontation with her daughter.

"Thanks," she replied, moving towards the front door.

"You always look pretty, Mom."

Esme stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for what I said. It was cruel."

"Yes, it was." Esme agreed.

Alice put her magazine down. "I just don't want you to make a fool of yourself."

"Because I'm not a model." Esme added.

"Well, no, you're not, but you could be and Jasper recognised that."

Esme took a step towards her daughter. "You've changed your tune."

Alice shrugged. "I think I was jealous. I like him."

Esme sat down on the stool next to Alice and placed her purse on the counter.

"But he likes you." Alice finished.

"No, darling. He just wants me to do this campaign. There's nothing more to it than that."

Alice smiled at her mother, and to Esme's surprise, she lifted her hand and placed her palm on Esme's cheek. "You're so naive."

Esme laughed. "You sound just like your father."

"Just be careful, Mom."

Esme picked up her purse and walked towards the door.

"Mom!" Alice shouted after her. Esme looked over her shoulder. "I'm sorry," Alice said.

"I'm going to do the photoshoot," Esme told her.

Alice nodded and picked up her magazine again.

Esme walked to car, touched by Alice's apology. She didn't know what had changed Alice's attitude, but she was certainly thankful for it.

Esme started the car and drove to Jasper's studio. She tried not to think too much about what was about what she was about to do, and what may happen. Her stomach was in knots, but Esme recognised excitement rather than trepidation.


End file.
